


hang on to the reverie

by sssammich



Category: The Bold Type
Genre: Angst, F/F, Feelings, POV Second Person, adena's pov, lots and lots of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-07-13
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:03:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssammich/pseuds/sssammich
Summary: You gasp for air as soon as you reach the street.You pull your thin jacket tightly and walk to make your way to...somewhere.Anywhere.





	hang on to the reverie

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Manhattan" by Sara Bareilles.

\--||--

You gasp for air as soon as you reach the street.

You pull your thin jacket tightly and walk to make your way to...somewhere.

Anywhere.

You’re not certain where you are, but based on how you collapse on a park bench, you feel like you’ve trekked the length of Manhattan.

The sun’s dipping low in the horizon, casting the faintest of shadows on the ground. Soon it’ll get dark and you will have to find somewhere to be.

Anywhere. 

Because you can’t go back there.

Not right now.

Not when each step that’s taken you farther away is leaden with feelings that you can’t untangle from one another.

You check your phone; no messages. You expected as much, but you still thought that perhaps she would try again. What good that’ll do, you don’t know, but perhaps…

You’re no longer sure of anything.

Not of your choices.

Not of your future.

But you can’t fall apart here.

Drowning in uncertainty, you scroll through your contacts list until you find yourself halfway through. You tap on the name.

You press the phone to your ear; hear a ring, then another. 

Firuze picks up. You fall back into your mother tongue, a small comfort of home that you’re now missing more than ever.

You look away from people passing by, but you know they’re looking at you. They’re always looking at you.

But you power through it, your voice veiled in confidence. It wavers when you hear that she’s out of town for a few days.

“It slipped my mind,” you offer in English. “I’m sorry. Have a good trip, and I’ll see you soon.”

You hang up even as you hear her call out for you.

The sunlight has all but disappeared, replaced by streetlights and the evening traffic that clogs the roads.

You open your contacts list again and scroll further down. You repeat what you’d done not a minute ago and you hope.  

Marie picks up. You ask for a favor; she asks if you remember how to get to her apartment.

You take the subway; put yourself out of reach for now. Just in case.

You walk to the end of the platform away from most of the crowds and get in the first car. You take a seat and look around. It’s not that full, but a couple of people have elected to stand. They’re all focused on their own, on the darkness of the tunnels outside the windows, on their phones, on sleep.

You wonder if any of them right now are hurting, too.

The train takes off, metal wheels screeching against the tracks.

You hold your tears.

Not here.

You’re not ready.

 

 

You reach the door and knock.

She opens the door.

She doesn’t know what happened, but by the looks of you, she can probably tell.

 

 

You take the glass of water from her before she takes the spot on the other side of her sofa.

You appreciate the room to breathe.

You start; the words hesitate to come out. Voicing it out loud, this time from your mouth instead of hers, establishes it as reality.

You recount it, almost verbatim, Kat’s words ricocheting inside of you. You can’t forget it.

Marie, dutiful, sits and exchanges your broken words for a sympathetic face.

You finish and she clicks her tongue.

“It’s wrong, but I get it.”

The tears pool at the corner of your eyes; Marie’s only saying what you already know yourself.

“The worst part is that I do, too.”

She doles out sympathy, understanding. But the space is quickly filled with silence.

She hugs you and you accept. You can’t help but compare the wrongness of her body pressed up against you, even in a simple embrace. You don’t want to remember that everything about this is wrong.

You shut your eyes and stop the tears from coming. (You’re not ready.) When you open them, she’s looking at you.

“It’s gonna work out. I don’t know _how_ , but I know _you_.”

She leaves you alone, explains that she’ll be spending the night elsewhere anyway, so feel free to make yourself at home. You know it’s not her plans, but you can’t push yourself to argue propriety.

She squeezes your shoulder and you remember that’s where Kat had kissed you only a couple hours ago.

“Thanks,” you offer even as it comes out barely audible.

You watch her reach the door and offer one final wave before shutting it and leaving you alone. You wonder if how you look now is how Kat looked earlier.

You’re not ready, but the tears have come anyway.

 

 

You thought about this, once or twice. In the beginning.

But Kat was so confident and she was so beautiful and she was so earnest, so willing to give it all - _you_ \- a shot that you’d almost forgotten your own fears. 

How fleeting, how fragile, how so very new.

The disappointment intensifies until Kat’s echoing words fill every crevice of the word.

Despite the heaviness in your heart, you can’t fault her. At least not for her confusion.

You’d taken roots in your identity many moons ago, and you’ve since flourished. You recall fighting for every inch and every second of coming into yourself. But she’s not there yet, not where you are.

And the pang in your heart knows exactly what that means.

 

 

You face east and position yourself for your salat. You center yourself, praying for guidance, for strength, for forgiveness.

 

 

_I’m home. I’d like to talk now._

 

 

She looks up when she hears the door and finds Kat standing there beautiful as ever.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come back.”

It hurts how it sounds.

She thanks Kat for the honesty, the courage it must have taken for her to come completely clean after everything. Even now, it warms her aching heart.

She wants to say so many things, to express herself and the gauntlet of emotions that she’d endured in the last few hours, but a different set of words come out.

“I remember the first time...that I kissed a woman. It was like fireworks everywhere.” She bites her lip and she can feel Kat’s eyes on her. “For you there’s only been me.”

She hears Kat shift beside her in the silence that blankets over them.

“Are you-are you breaking up with me?”

She bites her lips again, not daring to look at Kat.

Is she?

Is this it?

“I don’t want to lose you.”

She’s screaming inside, lost within herself.

“I don’t want to lose you either.”

But she knows the truth and the feelings that Kat has now doesn’t just go away; she knows that. She lived it.

She hears Kat’s question sit uneasily between them. “What do we do?”

She stretches out her arm and places her hand tenderly on top of Kat’s who quickly tries to grab hold of her, not letting go.

All she can do at this moment is rub the back of Kat’s hand with her thumb and keep this small contact between them. She can’t be certain of anything right now, not when the woman who’s seized her heart is sitting there looking at her with fear and hope in her eyes.

Adena sighs.

“I don’t know.”

  
  
\--||--

**Author's Note:**

> I needed to process all of my emotions, so this is how I did it. Unbeta'ed, sorry.


End file.
